


Restlessness

by YouDontDrinkScotch



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontDrinkScotch/pseuds/YouDontDrinkScotch
Summary: House wakes up in the middle of the night with a hurting leg, a desperate want for Vicodin, and a need for answers.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Restlessness

House was abruptly pulled from his sleep — which was already light in the first place — to a sudden sharp wave of pain shooting up his bad leg.

Eyes still locked shut, he let out a hiss of discomfort. His damn leg had been worked up lately, and it had already been the cause of him waking up multiple times throughout the night.

He had tried to ignore the ache each time, but now, it was unbearable. House could already see a few pills of Vicodin in the very near future.

Letting out a dull groan, House slowly allowed himself to fully come to his senses. As he did so, he realized that he had himself completely wrapped around somebody’s warm figure.

It was Wilson’s, of course.

House had his own arms enfolded around the other man’s waist, and his face burrowed into the crook between Wilson’s neck and shoulder.

Legs entangled with Wilson’s, House pulled his head back slightly, groaning.

Every night, when the two of them went to sleep, House always found that he somehow managed to latch onto Wilson like his life depended on it during the night. In the mornings, when they both woke up to discover their limbs tangled together, House always blamed it on Wilson, but deep inside, House knew it was his own unconscious-self’s fault.

Watching Wilson now, House ignored the pain in his leg for just a moment.

Wilson was snoring gently, making light little sounds that filled the quiet night air. His eyelids were fluttering slightly, a clear indication that he was dreaming. House couldn’t help but wonder what about.

Leaning forwards, House planted a gentle, tender kiss on the back of his sleeping boyfriend’s neck.

As much as it pained him to admit it, House found sleeping Wilson... cute.

House rolled his eyes. Wilson really was turning him soft.

When he leaned in again to softly nuzzle Wilson’s hair, another wave of pain shot up House’s leg with a vengeance.

Painfully letting out a hiss into Wilson’s ear, — which caused Wilson to mumble slightly — House pulled away to glance over his shoulder at the nightstand behind him, bottle of Vicodin sitting there, practically screaming to be downed.

House grunted.

He knew what he had to do.

Stretching his arm out to reach for the pills, House was suddenly interrupted by a tired grunt next to him.

“Going for a midnight snack?”

House brought his gaze back to Wilson, who was eyeing him groggily, hair mussed over his eyes. There were also strands of hair that were also sticking out in wild places all over Wilson’s head that were pretty endearing to House, he had to admit.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty,” House greeted, ignoring Wilson’s question. “I see you’re awake.”

Wilson blinked at House through the sleepy fog in his eyes.

“Yeah, _you_ woke me up with all of your moving. Were you _trying_ to accomplish that?”

House gave Wilson his best ‘kicked puppy’ look.

“My leg hurt,” he said in a faux-pitiful tone.

Wilson just rolled his eyes and shot him a look.

“Did your tangling it up with my own legs make it sore?” Wilson quipped.

A little taken aback, House blinked at Wilson.

“You’re the one doing that,” he accused.

“Uh-huh. That’s what you _want_ me to think.”

Wilson then jabbed a finger into House’s chest.

“I know _you’re_ the one cuddling _me_ , House. Admit it; you’re way more cuddly then you let on.”

As much as House hated to admit it, Wilson was right. Apparently House just couldn’t sleep unless he had Wilson clutched protectively to his chest.

House wouldn’t admit that, though, so he just let out a snort.

“Yeah, _right._ ”

Wilson blinked at him affectionately, a teasing glint in his brown eyes.

“Now, remind me; what was that thing you’re always telling me about? Something about how everybody lies?”

Eyebrows furrowed together, House planted a hand on Wilson’s waist, appreciating the warmth that hid beneath the fabric of Wilson’s McGill sweatshirt he was wearing.

“Well, yeah, it _is_ true, but it doesn’t apply to me right now.” He gave Wilson a stare that seemed to say, ‘isn’t that obvious?’

Wilson rolled his eyes, but he lovingly buried his face into House’s neck and sighed contentedly.

Tossing and turning during the nights definitely weren’t uncommon for House; his leg was always a real bitch while attempting to sleep, so House knew that Wilson was used to his general insomnia, restlessness, and ability to steal all of the blankets in bed while trying to get comfortable.

It bothered House that he kept doing this to Wilson, and it bothered House even more that Wilson didn’t seem to mind. He almost _wanted_ Wilson to get angry with him for being such a nuisance. House wasn’t even one-hundred percent sure _why_ that was; maybe he just didn’t feel like he was worthy of that kind of affection, understanding, and sympathy from someone else. Maybe it made him feel too vulnerable.

But every night when Wilson comforted House like this, House just accepted it, because his leg always felt like someone had set it on fire, and that always left House feeling hurt and exhausted and unable to do anything about his frustration because the aforementioned leg felt like the literal pits of hell.

This time, though, House couldn’t hold back his own thoughts screaming at him. He wanted answers.

“Why do you keep putting up with me?” he blurted out into Wilson’s hair.

The way House asked it made him sound far too vulnerable for his liking, but he had to know.

Wilson pulled back to stare at House, a contemplative look washing over his face. 

Finally, he answered with a light-hearted shrug.

“The sex is good.”

House snorted. Leave it up to Wilson to want to lighten the mood.

Then, grinning in an almost melancholy way, a way that showed he understood what was going on in House’s head — something Wilson was way too good at — Wilson brought his head closer to House’s to rest their foreheads together.

Wilson let out a small sigh that brushed House’s face, tickling his nose.

“You know exactly why I put up with you: I love you.”

Moving one hand to hold House’s cheek, Wilson brought his other hand down to gently rest on House’s bad leg, right where his scar hid beneath his pajama pants.

Exhaustedly, House let out a sigh into Wilson’s face and allowed himself to sink into the other man’s affectionate touches.

House didn’t care that he wasn’t being his usual cold, closed-off self in that moment; just this once, he found that he could accept some help from Wilson. He needed it.

It was comforting. It was relaxing. It made House feel safe; he always felt safe with Wilson.

“Thank you,” House breathed, allowing his eyes to shut. His exhaustion was finally taking over.

He could feel Wilson grin gently as he carefully massaged House’s leg.

Slowly, Wilson lowered them both so they were lying back down, limbs tangling together again.

Their heads were back against the pillows, where it was soft and warm, and House felt shielded away from the world.

As Wilson’s hand rhythmically rubbed soft circles into House’s hurting limb, House let out a satisfied sigh. He was finally drifting off into sleep.

The last thing House could feel was Wilson planting a gentle kiss on his forehead before he gave in to sleep.

House didn’t need any Vicodin that night, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was my first time writing for these two — it was very fun!
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


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